Thursday, March 30, 2006

The Puppet Show


I just wanted to thank all of you who read here and share your good thoughts and your own struggles with me. I am deeply indebted to each of you, and grateful for your friendship. It is a strange kind of kinship, but one I treasure.




The inspiration for this piece was something that I saw over on Riley Dog the other day. I was driving home yesterday and thinking about those Indonesian puppet shows and the piece from Riley Dog and this thing of my own I'd been mulling over for the past couple of months, and it hit me all at once how to do it.

A new stage for the little people in my world.


The past couple of days I've been listening to Neko Case's "Fox Confessor Brings The Flood."

She's new to me, but I like it. Her lyrics are dark and bright at the same time, and her voice is a wonder. We got an iPod a couple of months ago, and we're stumbling through the learning process, but I have to say it's a cool gadget and we're both enjoying it alot, although I feel like how it was when I first started using a computer: I'm skimming along the surface.


I took the dogs down to Lone Palm today. They were like bottle rockets shot out of a Coke bottle on the fourth of July- a shrill whistle, a trail of smoke, and then a far-off explosion somewhere in the grass when they land. The rain was holding off for a few hours, but the sky was full of huge clouds all layered in grays from the palest white to intensely dark, and the sun was stabbing through some openings and backlighting everything and the wind was sending shivers through the tall grass and the sea was that dark, dark gunmetal all shot through with whitecaps and the brilliance of the sun hammering the surface and the black rocks were swarming with cormorants and sea lions.

If I could have shed my skin and bones right there I would have done it and turned myself into that scene.


Sometimes you just have to get your ass out of the man-made world.


I'm gonna go take my wife out to lunch.



Blogger Unknown said...

Hope you had a great lunch!

6:21 AM  
Blogger Tongue in Cheek Antiques said...

yuor writing and thoughts provoke me. Deep dark yet full of light hope and feeling.
Thank you for sharing this way!

7:00 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


It was great, thanks! Hope you're enjoying the new doggie.
Say hi to Jack for me.


Thank you, too.

7:38 AM  
Blogger Dianne said...

Your blog is very deep and real. Thank you for the work you do.

I work in domestic violence myself. I'm the author of a book on that topic and have a website for battered women:


8:54 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Thanks for stopping by, and for your kind words.

Peace back atcha.

9:12 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"get your ass out of the man made world" -- I wonder about that problematic a lot. For example Hirshfield's new book, more reliant upon pears, fur, candles, hardwood floors, than ever. How does one bring a polymer diode unti number 569 into a poem? Mark Doty's new book, an image of an empty pink egg carton (the styrofoam kind) . . . he's wondering about that. If I write about a tree -- is my ultimate source for that a real tree I saw out a window, or a tree I saw on TV? Too much reliance on the natural pre-technological organic things, and I'm creating a dissonant distance between the area of the poem and the area of reality, which I want to mix in. Too much high-tech, we devolve into the non-understandable. I guess maybe there's an aging, a fermenting process involved, as the harsh incredible banal everyday images of reality seep down into what can be emotionally written about. How would Sharon Stone's lover write an ode to her today? Does he mention the implants. Weird stuff.


4:55 AM  

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